


Commercial Break

by noblet



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Insomnia, Jon's Last Episode, M/M, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7197266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblet/pseuds/noblet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years and Stephen finally gives Jon what he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commercial Break

"We'll be right back." The audience roared as Jon waved the camera away and turned to Stephen. "Reverend Al," he smirked as he reached over the desk and took Stephen's hand in his. "Thank you for coming in. I owe you one. Honestly,” he said in a softer voice.

"Anything for my favorite boss," Stephen said in a sardonic tone before taking a long sip from his (Al's) mug. He didn’t see Jon roll his eyes. "I haven't been that nervous in years," he added as he smacked his lips.

"Me too.” People were rushing to his desk to fix his makeup and fiddle with the script. “I think we did great," Jon said, but Stephen wasn't listening. He was looking down at his watch, leg anxiously bouncing up and down. 

"You late for something?"

"Yeah. Just before you called me I was heading out to watch _The Fellowship of the Ring_." His frown grew deeper. "It's too late now. I missed the beginning." He pulled his hand away from Jon's and began fiddling with his deaf ear, a nervous habit that became apparent only when he was distracted.  
"Sorry about that," Jon said. "Let me make it up to you. Wanna go tomorrow? Together?"

"I'd like that," Stephen said, standing up. "Don't be surprised if I talk your ear off, though. 

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Ah, I think we're going back on in a minute. See you tomorrow?

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Stephen smiled. He walked off towards backstage, and Jon wondered how he'd gotten so lucky.

=====

It was a Monday when Stephen came into work and immediately laid down Jon's couch.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Jon’s tone was dry. He kept his eyes on his computer screen. He was _not_ going to get distracted this time.

"Can't do it without glasses," Stephen pointed at his face before letting it fall to his side. He propped his feet up on the arm facing Jon. "Lost them," he groaned.

"Can't you just memorize the script?" Jon furrowed his brows, pretending to be distracted by the email he was writing, but his attempts were useless. He turned the screen off and rubbed his forehead. Stephen really needed to stop hanging around so often. It was becoming a habit.

"I have a terrible memory. Sometimes I can't even remember how I pronounce my last name," Stephen sighed.

"It's Col-bear," Jon quipped, playing along.

Stephen twisted his face into a look and tilted his head. "Do I look French to you?"

=====

Jon was admiring the rain outside when Stephen barged into his office, buzzing with excitement.

"Jon, look!" Stephen cried as he handed him something wet and wriggling.

"A cat?" He tried to act annoyed but he couldn’t when he saw how happy Stephen was.

"A kitten," he said in an authoritative tone. “I found him this morning before I left. Poor baby." He made little clicking sounds with his tongue, cooing and figuratively drooling over the thing. "I'm going to get some paper towels to dry him off. Watch Chuck for a second, will ya?"

"Chuck? Did you seriously name him after-"

"Why wouldn't I?" Stephen questioned, but he ran out before Jon could answer.

=====

He began to get distracted by the smallest things. First, it was the footsteps he sensed whenever someone walked by, then the faint sound of traffic below, then it was the way Jon’s chair would creak and scream whenever he shifted his weight. His head would snap up from whatever menial work he was doing, (taking a nap, writing an email), and he'd involuntarily glance at the couch to find it empty. He missed Stephen and his ramblings about New York and the small arguments they had over things unrelated to their jobs. Their conversations allowed Jon to release some steam before the show, but in Stephen's absence, he just felt lonely and bored, like a dog left at home all day. It didn't take him long to realize that it was Stephen's presence that kept him from going to the roof every twenty minutes to burn through another cigarette. 

His fingers were beginning to twitch in agitation. He heard heavy footsteps outside his door and stared at the script in front of him, lamp buzzing. He could see the words on the paper but their meanings wouldn't register in his racing mind. 

Fuck it. It was a Friday, anyway. Only a quarter of his coworkers had bothered to show up, so the chances they’d see him and say something were minimal.  
He gave in and grabbed an ancient pack of Marlboros, closing his door on the way out.

-

"You up?" Stephen had called him the same night. He picked up on the first ring.

"You know I am," Jon started. "Where are you? Where have you been?" 

"California! You mean nobody told you?" Stephen sounded ecstatic over the phone.

To be honest with himself, he never thought to ask.

Stephen continued, "It's so beautiful there! Not exactly the stereotypical beach scene you'd imagine, but it was pretty, nonetheless."

"Was?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm sitting in the airport now. Just waiting for Steve to pick me up." He could imagine Stephen sitting in the airport alone, rows and rows of empty seats surrounding him, and his stomach sank.

"Stephen, Steve lives in _New Jersey_ ," Jon sighed.

"So?"

"Why didn't you ask me to pick you up instead?" 

"I thought you'd be sleeping." 

"I _never_ sleep."

"Is everything okay?" The sudden concern that appeared in his voice made him blink.

Jon pursed his lips before answering. "Just missed you, that's all." 

Stephen's voice came through after a few seconds of thoughtful silence. "I missed you, too."

-

He got another phone call later that night, this time from Steve. He had been pacing around the living room, too awake to not move around. 

"He forgot his keys. He just mentioned that you live nearby, so could he stay with you for the night? He's too scared to ask."

Jon could hear Stephen's objecting voice in the background. "I'm not scared!"

Jon agreed to his request. It was four in the morning and they would've seen each other at eight anyway. An extra four hours definitely wouldn't hurt.

Stephen knocked on his door at about 4:30, luggage in tow. He looked like he’d slept on the flight in because he looked well rested and in check. Jon, however, was nearing his twenty-third hour of consciousness.

"You alright?" Stephen asked when Jon opened the door. He must've noticed the bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave.

"Never been better.” He smiled weakly before closing the door behind him.

They sat on the couch after Jon apologized for his messy apartment, which Stephen insisted was no problem at all. ("It's just like your office at work," he said, winking at Jon.) They watched some early morning newscast that Stephen commented lightly on and Jon listened to half-heartedly.

-

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, Stephen's arm was draped around his shoulders, his cheek resting placidly on the top of Jon's head. A quiet moment passed in what could only be described as perfect. The sky outside was changing from dark blue to orange and Jon listened to Stephen's steady breathing as his touch burned through his arm.

He wriggled himself out of Stephen's hold and looked at up at him, flustered.

Stephen had been listening to the news, nodding in thought, but once he saw Jon staring at him he smiled. "You snore."

"Like you don't," Jon replied, he stretched his arms out over his head and cracked his back.

"You wouldn't know," Stephen called out as he got up for a drink of water.

"I guess I wouldn't. Wanna go get breakfast?"Jon asked, then he realized he was probably coming on too strong. "When the rest of the city is awake, I mean." 

“What, like, a date?” Stephen laughed, but Jon felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“I mean, if you don’t- Not- Well…,” he stammered.

“Jon, calm down, I was just joking,” Stephen said, but the look on his face was ambiguous. “I’d love to.”

“In that case, yes.”

=====

"You really don't sleep," Stephen commented one night while they were stressing over his departure. The room was dark, save the tiny lamp Jon had put on his desk so they could work on ideas for _The Colbert Report_ without anyone realizing they were still at work. The dim light and the comfortable silence made him sleepy, but Jon already knew he’d spend half of the night tossing in his bed.

"I don’t like to. I have bad dreams." Jon didn't like to admit it out loud, but it was true. Whenever he slept, he'd find himself as a young boy again, running... running...

"You could always call me, you know," Stephen said, looking down at his stack of papers.

"Don't want to bother you," he mumbled. Stephen had his own set of problems, he was sure of it. He didn't need to add to those.

"Jon," Stephen said, looking him in the eyes, and Jon fought the sudden urge to look away. "You know I care about you, right? I want you to know that. You've done so much for me."

"Don't..." Jon said, finally averting his eyes. He clutched his hands together under the desk and swiveled in his chair.

"Alright, alright. Can I just say one thing though?" Stephen asked, and Jon sat still.

"Go for it,” he sighed.

He leaned over the desk and gave Jon's arm a good squeeze. "I owe you everything," he said, voice soft, and Jon's heart skipped a beat.

=====

They were sitting on Stephen's couch, watching the same Lord of the Rings movie Jon had accompanied him to years earlier. Empty boxes of various takeout littered Stephen's counters and the coffee table in front of them. Stephen's apartment was warm in the way Jon's apartment was not. It was always brightly lit, with windows wide enough to let the sunlight seep in. He began to prefer it over his own apartment because Stephen’s felt like home and home was where he wanted to be.

"I really like you," Jon blurted out. Stephen looked up from the box of broccoli beef he was digging through.

Stephen didn't even say anything at first, and Jon's heart was racing. He was beginning to think of excuses to leave when he heard, “I thought you’d never tell me.”

"What? What do you mean you-" 

"I like you too, Jon. Ever since we met." That same smile again. Man. He could never get enough of it. 

“Really?”  
“Jon, who hurt you?” He tried to sound annoyed but the smile on his face said otherwise. Why do you think I keep on inviting you here?”

“Because you want to work on ideas for the toss?” Jon said weakly. His heart was beating hard in his chest. 

“Does that,” Stephen said, pointing to the TV, “look like The Toss to you?”

Jon laughed. "I guess not."

"I think," Stephen began while he took his spot next to Jon, "we need to ease the tension. Can I...," he mumbled, putting his hand on the base of Jon's neck.

Jon just nodded, because his mind was dreaming up a thousand different scenarios and he couldn't settle on something to say. 

Stephen pulled them close, pressing their lips together. He lips were soft and the way he held Jon's face, rubbing his thumb over his stubble while the other hand massaged the back of his head, felt amazing. His heart was about to burst out of his chest when Stephen pulled away, smile on his face.

"Was that alright?"

"Oh, my god, yes. Do you know how long... how long... I've..."

"Oh, I know," Stephen said, barely a whisper. Then he pressed their lips together again, with more force this time, pulling them close. Jon couldn't help but smile, and their teeth clashed for a brief moment, not that either of them cared. To Jon, nothing else mattered. 

=====

He woke up to something incessantly scratching the bedroom door. Jon opened his eyes, saw that he was in a bed that wasn't his, in a room that wasn't his. His body was sore in a good way, and he sat up to find the bed empty next to him. He smiled and put his head in his hands, laughing.

_Oh my God._

"Jon?" Stephen opened the bedroom door, and Chuck, the source of the scratching, dashed inside and sat on one of the shelves. Stephen looked at Jon's bare torso, then at his face. "Sorry," he grinned. "But we have to go to work."

Jon just nodded and silently retrieved his shirt from where Stephen had thrown it the night before.

 _Jesus Christ the night before_.

He could get used to this.  
=====  
"Don't," Jon wanted to say, but he was too busy choking back tears. He was gonna kill him. It was one thing for him to cry in private, but on his own show? This was all too much.

"We owe you because we learned from you," Stephen was saying as he ignored the look Jon was giving him. "We learned from you by example, how to have a show with intention, how to work with clarity, how to treat people with respect," Stephen said, and Jon twisted anxiously in his seat, sniffling.

"Don't you dare." 

"You are infuriatingly good at your job, Jon Stewart, and all of us who were lucky enough to work with you for sixteen years are better at our jobs because we got to watch you do yours, and we are better people for having known you. You are a great artist and a good man." Jon buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

 _I love him I hate him I love him I hate him_.

"Now, I believe you have something to say."

Jon looked at Stephen and the same face he fell in love with years ago smiled back at him. He reached his arm over and they linked hands across the desk.

"We'll be right back."


End file.
